


Storks Drive Chryslers

by Kitty_KatAllie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Destiel Advent Calendar, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-specific AU where Dean is an RN, Cas is a police officer with a SAR dog named Colonel, and Christmas brings them a present they'd been waiting for a very, very, very long time. </p><p>Welcome home and Merry Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storks Drive Chryslers

Dean was antsy all day. One second he was in the kitchen, making sure there were a few ready bottles in the chest-height shelves and the beer was on the highest. The next he was in the living room, ducking around the curtains to stare out onto the empty road. Quick footsteps told the tale of him pacing between every outlet checking that the guards were all in place, that the knives were pushed to back of the counter space, that child-proof ties were on every cabinet (even though they wouldn’t be needed for at least half a year), that picture frames didn’t wobble when the wall was bumped, and that all the Disney movies (and Disney-alike) were all in the cupboard nearest the TV. Between every unnecessary task, he was back at the window, glaring at nothing and biting his bottom lip and groaning under his breath.

Finally, Cas put a stop to it. He’d waited. He had been _patient_. But when Dean pulled out the vacuum for the third time that day, Cas laid his hand over Dean’s.

“Dean, the house is so clean, we could eat on any surface. _Including the toilet_ ,” Cas told him firmly.

“Yeah, but… it’s _different_ now,” Dean protested yanking at the vacuum handle. Cas narrowed his eyes.

“Let go of the vacuum,” Cas ordered, yanking it back. A brief, furious tug-of-war began in the foyer.

“Just one more- just her bedroom- oh come _on_ , Cas,” Dean whined petulantly when Cas wrestled it away. The vacuum thudded into place in the hall closet before the door snapped shut behind it. “Like vacuuming is gonna hurt anything.”

“It’s making _me_ crazy. Just sit down or something,” Cas snapped as he ran his hand through his hair.

Dean paused in his unrepentant pouting and actually _looked_ at Cas. Eyes glanced over Cas’ five o'clock shadow, even-messier-than-usual mop of hair, and dark bags under blue eyes. He looked like shit and it made Dean’s lips quirk up on the sides. Some of the frazzled, restless energy drained out of him at the sight and Cas felt his own anxiety lower with relief.

“Dude, did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, smirk widening. He looped his fingers through Cas’ jeans’ belt loops and tugged the man closer. The heavy scowl that darkened his face made Dean chuckle outright.

“I slept as well as you did. You just manage to look good no matter how anxious you are,” Cas grumbled irritably as he let himself be pulled up against Dean’s chest. His eyes narrowed further, but the softening of his mouth gave him away. “You’re the bane of my existence, Winchester.”

“You keep talking at me, but all I hear is ‘Dean Winchester is the light and love of life’,”  Dean teased and hands slipped under the thick, knit-wool of Cas’ Christmas sweater. One of thirteen- what Dean called- “fuck-awful Christmas sweaters”.

“Something along those lines,” Cas hummed his agreement, annoyance officially abandoned. He trailed his hands up Dean’s arms, enjoying the feel of Henley-covered corded muscle under his palms, until finally fingers sunk into Dean’s hair and pulled. Dean went down easily, kissing softly as his own hands tightened around Cas’ waist.

“Feeling better?” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips moments later. Cas’ mouth twisted into a wry smirk.

“Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that? You’ve been panicking all week. I think there’s a few patches around the house where you scrubbed the paint off.”

Dean laughed awkwardly and pressed his forehead to Cas’. He slid his hands over Cas’ waist to rest on his hips lightly as thumbs traced the line of bone under thick jeans. As Dean gathered the words, a slow process Cas was quite used to waiting for, he smoothed his palms down Dean’s neck, fingers pressing knobs of spine then kneading tense muscles.

“I’ve wanted this for three years, Cas. _We_ wanted it. I’m really fucking happy, but I’m freaking out, man. What if I mess up? I always manage to mess it up,” Dean mumbled with fear coloring his voice.

Cas smiled wryly. “It is scary, but we’re ready, Dean. We’ve been ready for a long time. When she arrives, all your worries are going to disappear. It’ll be _right_ , you’ll see,” Cas promised lightly, hands running along the edge of Dean’s shirt collar. “I’ve seen you, Dean, I’ve seen the way you are. It’s like breathing for you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean exhaled.

They stood in the hallway letting the silence grow bigger and warmer between them. Their home was silent, too silent, around them. The thought that it would soon be filled with shrieks and laughter, every day, was almost too big a thought to really comprehend. Cas was _used_ to the empty spaces. It had taken years to get used to waking up next to Dean, knowing he’d come home almost every night, that he’d smile across the table and make stupid jokes Cas didn’t understand until death “does them part”. Cas was good four years older than his partner of six years and all those years a bachelor showed when he forgot call Dean when he was out late or paid bills without Dean’s knowledge-- making him panic when the due date came up and he couldn’t find the letter.

He also never looked around his home and thought it was too _empty_ before. It always seemed so full, _too full_. In the earliest months of Dean moving in, Cas had been irritable and waspish. Snapping at the littlest things and greedily hoarding his private space like a dragon its treasure. Now, though, he couldn’t even imagine his life without Dean there. Now, the idea that another life would be put into his life, would need him even more than Dean, the grown man, ever could… instead of the expected fear, it was anticipation making his body shake and his fingers clutch harder at Dean.

 _We can do this_.

The sound of a car turning into the driveway had Dean tearing out of Cas’ arms and running for the window. The loud clattering of nails on hardwood announced the arrival of Colonel, the large German Shepherd who was Cas’ longest-kept partner at the department. The sound of an engine had the normally lazily-napping canine wide awake and excited. Colonel had his front paws perched on the windowsill next to Dean, whining and whuffing quietly, too well-trained to outright bark.

“Damn, I never get over how ugly that fuckin’ Chrysler is,” Dean immediately groaned. Despite the joking words, his words were tight and his knuckles white on the windowsill. A shaking hand buried in the thick fur of Colonel’s head between his ears. Dark eyes looked up to Dean, then quickly back to the car outside when no command was forthcoming.

Cas reached his side with a weak smirk on his face. In the driveway was the behemoth of a sedan, pale silver and well taken care of, that the two of them had gotten to know well over the past three years. Dean began to shake as the car shut off and the front door opened. A short, curvy black woman stepped out onto the cement, closing the door with a bump of her hip. A critical eye, that Cas could _feel_ even from this distance, glanced over the front of the house. Being in the Bay Area of California meant there wasn’t much snow to worry about, just thick icy frost over the yellowed grass and along flowerbeds Dean and Cas had never gotten around to filling. Dean had spent an entire day setting up lights along the house, while Cas and Colonel stood a few paces away from the ladder and watched on silently (mostly silent, there may have been a few catcalls and sarcastic advice from Cas). A wreath, the extent of Cas’ festive help, hung from the front door crookedly. Most the houses on the street were decorated worse than a mall, but neither Cas nor Dean had ever gone much out of their way for that. They preferred keeping most their holiday cheer for the tree and leaving it at that.

Missouri Moseley, who’d become so much more than her job to them, then focused her gaze on the two grown men and SAR dog staring at her from the window. She shook her head and began muttering under her breath, before turning to the back door.

Dean was scrambling for the door in seconds, Colonel and Cas on his heels.

“‘Bout time you boys came out here. And without your coats, are you stupid, son?” Missouri demanded, not even looking over her shoulder as Dean skidded to a stop behind her.

“It’s fine. We won’t be out here more than a minute. Is she okay? Does she need anything?” Dean demanded, arms rising and falling in confusion.

“Well, _I_ need you to back your butt up,” Missouri replied shortly. Cas snorted, earning a glare from Dean. He motioned for Colonel to sit and waited patiently for Missouri to stand. “Here you boys go, one Emma Marie Winchester. Be careful with her head now,” Missouri admonished. Dean was already scooping the bundle of blue and yellow cloth before the older woman had a chance to stand properly.

Cas stepped forward, pressing close and placing an arm over where a little knee was probably hiding under all its warm coverings. The cold air had their breath swirling in mist before their faces and their noses as red as Rudolph’s, but Cas felt warm and full as he gazed down at the round, pale face nestled in Dean’s arms.

“Damn, she’s gorgeous, isn’t she, Cas?” Dean breathed, green eyes wide and glassy.

“Yes,” Cas agreed simply, unable to find words. He merely pressed closer, revelling in the rapid beat of Dean’s heart against his ribs and the soft warmth of the baby’s cheek against his fingers. He didn’t even notice his hand moving until it was there.

She squirmed, scowling as lashes, perfect blonde lashes the curled over the dusting of freckles on her cheeks, fluttered. Bright blue eyes looked up at them, but the scowl didn’t clear.

“Dude, blue eyes. Like yours. Didn’t even need your DNA for them to carry over,” Dean tried to tease, though it choke and caught in his throat. Cas hummed softly, thumb brushing over Emma’s perfect round chin.

“Most Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes, Dean, especially with your recessive genes. They’ll probably darken within the next few years,” Cas disagreed quietly.

“Spoilsport, whoa whoa, hey Ems, no need to cry,” Dean crooned as the infant began to whimper and squirm harder.

“If you got her out of the _cold_ it might help, Mr. Winchester,” Missouri pointed out dryly. Dean cussed under his breath, his already cold-bitten ears getting redder.

“Yeah, duh, ‘course, I’ll do that. Cas, her stuff,” Dean stammered, feet shuffling.

“Go on, Dean. I’ll be right behind,” Cas reassured him, stepping away to let him pass. It almost physically _hurt_ to drag himself away. He watched Dean hurry to the house, muttering a quiet “release” so Colonel could hurtle after them, tongue lolling as he ran in circles around Dean’s legs and sniffed towards the bundle Dean carried.

“I was worried about you, you know,” Missouri said at Cas’ side. He jumped slightly and glanced down at her. His brows snapped together in a confused frown as she gazed up at him impassively. “I was worried that you weren’t going to put your heart into this, not like Dean was. You do things for him to make him happy, even if you’re not sure you’re ready. I can tell,” Missouri went on.

Cas looked away, back towards the front door now closed and hiding his family from view.

“You’re right. I was worried, too. I was excited, but until today, I wasn’t sure I was ready,” Cas agreed softly. Missouri led him towards the trunk which was already popped and waiting to be opened the rest of the way.

“So, honey, what changed?” Missouri asked handing over diaper bag-- Cas remembered the day Dean bought that; “Pink’s shit, Cas. Why are the girls’ full of fucking pink? That’s it. We’re getting the one with dinosaurs, fuck it”. He hefted it onto a shoulder easily.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t real yet. Suddenly, she was on her way and that room we’ve kept ready is going to have her sleeping in it. It’s not going to be _empty_ anymore,” Cas tried to explain, frowning even harder as Missouri struggled with the infant’s chair in the backseat.

“It helps that she beautiful baby being held by a just as pretty man, doesn’t it?” Missouri said with a smirk in Cas’ direction, shoving the chair into his arms. Cas chuckled.

“It does help. It fits him, being a father,” Cas stepped away from the car as he spoke and let Missouri lead the way into the house.

“It fits you pretty well, too, Officer Winchester. I saw you look at that little girl. You’d break laws for her already,” Missouri retorted, laughing outright at Cas’ sputters and reddened face.

For the next hour or so, Missouri walked them through the final steps of completing the surrogacy process. They signed the last bit of paper, checked out the birth certificate to be sent to state registrar, and discussed the surrogate mother’s final decision to keep as little communication as possible. Lydia Terme- a very independent single mother who lived with her young daughter Hester in Bakersfield almost five hours to the south- had agreed to keep the channel of communication open, but wouldn’t mind if they didn’t take up the offer. Dean and Cas had liked their surrogate mother well enough to become genial friends, but she didn’t exactly become _family_. Before Missouri finally took her leave, she watched Dean feed and change Emma, noting how well he did and making gentle suggestions when he fumbled.

“You’ll both be fine. One of you took paternity leave, right?” Missouri asked pointedly as Cas helped her into her coat.

“Like Cas would take leave. He didn’t take _vacation_ until I moved in,” Dean scoffed loudly from the living room where Emma was playing in her playpen.

Missouri raised her eyebrow at Cas, who shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s right. I didn’t. I believe my boss told me ‘it’s ‘bout damn time, ya idjit’ when I requested time off for the first time.”

“Then Bobby called me and told me I was the best damn thing to happen to you and to hide the police scanner,” Dean called back.

“At least the one with the experience is sticking around. Make sure you spend time with her, you hear me, Castiel?” Missouri warned, patting Cas’ jaw with a smile on her face. Cas’ stern features softened at her obvious affection.

“I will. Dean still wants to volunteer at the Health and Care Center in town whenever I’m on my off days. Dean’s one of their best RNs, too good for him to give them up completely for three months,” Cas informed her. Missouri nodded in approval, then called out a last farewell and “Merry Christmas” before heading back out into the cold.

Cas, once he saw the car roll safely out into the street, returned to the living room. Colonel was lying on the floor next to Dean, head on his paws and eyes locked on the squirming infant inside the cloth-mesh walls of the playpen. Dean was carefully balancing his weight on his arms lying mostly on the rails of the pen. One hand dangled off the side, rattling pastel colored keys or grabbing at sock-covered toes. Cas crossed his arms over chest, blue and white yarn stretching tight, and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Back to the creepy staring, Cas? Thought we got over that last week,” Dean taunted without even looking around.

“Never,” Cas replied with a smirk. “You make a good picture from where I’m standing. Let me enjoy it.”

Dean turned then, grinning merrily, as Emma shrieked and kicked at his hand grasping at her toes. “It’s a better picture with you in it. Come and play with your kid, dick.”

“You should practice _not_ swearing in front of Emma,” Cas retorted, but doing as requested. He knelt at Dean’s side, hand on his shoulder for balance, and looked down. Emma was barely a day old, features squished and pink and soft. _So damn soft_. Fear was back, this time followed with graphic pictures of her broken by his much too large, rough hands. Years on the force supplied said-images in painful clarity.

“You look like you’re gonna puke. Need a baggie?” Dean tried to quip with worry weighing down the lightly said words.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Cas whispered. He reached down slowly with shaking hands. Emma’s gaping, toothless mouth spread wider, not quite a smile, not yet, and her little hand stretched up. Tiny fingers with sharp little nails scratched at his hand until they wrapped around three of his fingers and tugged. “We’ll be fine, right, Emma?” Cas added quietly as the infant blew spit bubbles and kicked her feet awkwardly.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of feeding, changing, and just _touching_ their new addition to the family. Gazing wide-eyed with her as she grasped things, heard others, and just experienced _home_. Giving her a bath in the infant tub made to look like a penguin (Dean’s purchase) had left them all wet, sleepy, and grinning, even Colonel. When bed time finally came, with a morning of relatives to look forward to, Dean dawdled in the nursery, rubbing Emma’s back and rocking back and forth. Cas snorted as he placed her froggy towel on its hook to dry.

“You don’t want to put her down, do you?” Cas asked pointlessly. Dean bit down on his bottom lip and smiled awkwardly.

“Would it make me sound like a girl if I said no?” Dean replied. Red creeped up the back of his neck and over his ears and his eyes darted around the room. “I’m kinda… I kinda scared if I put her down, she’ll disappear…”

“I thought that was it. Come on, Dean,” Cas beckoned. Dean scowled at him and stomped over-- most of the effect lost without Dean’s usual boots on. Cas placed his hand on the small of Dean’s back and led him to the master bedroom with a gentle push. “One night won’t hurt.”

Dean stared at him a little baffled, but let Cas push him around anyway. Once in their room, Cas piled up some extra blankets and pillows in the middle of the bed kind of like a nest. Then, hesitantly, he motioned for Dean to hand Emma over. Already grinning, Dean gently placed Emma in Cas’ arms. For a terrifying moment, Cas _knew_ he was going to drop her, or squeeze too hard or break something. Then, she was nestled close to his heart, floppy and boneless with drowziness. It was the first time Cas had held her and it made his whole body lock up instinctively.

“Dude, you’re good. Everything’s all in the right place,” Dean joked, grabbing the back of Cas’ neck to pull him forward gentle and kiss his forehead. Cas glared up the scant inch of difference in their heights.

“Don’t _do_ that. I could have dropped her,” he snapped. His scowl darkened further at Dean’s huff of laughter.

“All right, big bad police officer. Get in the bed and let’s snuggle.”

“I _am_ ,” Cas grumbled. He carefully maneuvered himself on the bed and almost bent double to place Emma in the “nest” with as little space between his chest and the bed as possible. he ignored the snickers behind him and tucked Emma in neatly. Somehow her limbs managed to spread out within seconds of lying down, taking up much more space than an infant her size should. Big blue eyes blinked sleepily and closed with a sleepy sigh. It was impossible not to smile at that while he pulled her little nightcap further down her head.

“She won’t be able to breathe if you layer her up anymore. She’s good, Cas,” Dean whispered. He slipped into the bed on the other side and patted the mattress lightly. “Get in here or I’ll feel neglected.”

“No you won’t. You’ll be too busy staring at Emma to notice,” Cas said dryly. He slid under the covers gingerly, as if a bomb lay on the bed instead of a baby.

“Eminem does kinda trump husband for now,” Dean agreed with a yawn. He blinked in confusion at Cas’ narrowed gaze. “What?”

“You are not calling our daughter the stagename of a _rapper_.”

Dean collapsed into laughter, pressing his face into his pillow to stifle the noise while the bed shook under them. He looked up for second, glanced at Cas’ even more peeved frown, and went off again. There was a lurch that had both men automatically placing their hands protectively over Emma as Colonel climbed up on the foot of the bed. After a few seconds of shuffling and turning in circles over Cas and Dean’s feet (which involved some colorful, laugh-drowned curse words from Dean), Colonel laid out comfortably and sighed gustily.

“We’re going to wake up with numb feet and cricks in our necks in like two hours,” Dean complained with not a little amusement.

“And probably sweaty. Not that we’re new to the experience,” Cas added blandly. Dean snorted and pretended to cover Emma’s ears.

“No dirty jokes in front of the _baby_ , Cas,” Dean admonished with wide eyes and overly scandalized tones.

“That rule won’t last longer than the no cussing in front of the baby one.” Cas shimmied closer and laid his hands over Dean’s, entwining their fingers together. Over the mound of blankets, their eyes met as they smiled.

“This is it, huh? Next 18 years, at least. This is our family,” Dean murmured, fingers tightening.

“It’s a good family,” Cas whispered back. He leaned up on his elbow, carefully reaching over Emma, and pressed his lips to Dean’s.

At their feet Colonel was already snoring, low, whistling snores broken by whuffs of breath and twitches. Emma shifted, freeing one arm from her father-made cocoon and her heart a quiet  beat beneath his chest. The smell of tropical shampoo, Dean’s longstanding winter choice, mixed with baby powder, dog, and cotton were suddenly, utterly perfect. Cas never thought ahead this far before, always taking each day one at a time-- case by case, bill by bill. Holidays were one more day and an empty bed was better than one filled with too many limbs and not enough room to stretch. Now, when he pulled away and saw Dean grinning up at him, freckles lit up by the Christmas lights hanging sloppily around the windows outside, he could see hundreds of Christmas nights just like this one and it was okay. It was _great_.

“If you don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come, dork,” Dean muttered, flicking Cas’ forehead with a finger. “He doesn’t like staring creepers, either.”

“You’re calling me a dork in the same sentence you’re speaking of Santa like he’s a real person,” Cas pointed out as he brushed Dean’s hand away and leaned down again.

“Yeah, well, takes one to know one, I guess,” Dean huffed against Cas’ mouth. Cas grinned but ignored it otherwise. Their hands clasped together again on the blankets as they kissed their way into Christmas day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you psyokren for beta reading this fic!


End file.
